


Sweet Pea, Sweet Tea

by FairyLights101



Series: Zine Works [5]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:47:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24917089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyLights101/pseuds/FairyLights101
Summary: “We can always move back to the desert-”“No,”Hunk cried, “I won’t survive! All that cholla? The scorpions? Theheat?”
Relationships: Hunk/Keith (Voltron)
Series: Zine Works [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2156664
Comments: 1
Kudos: 28





	Sweet Pea, Sweet Tea

“Snap beans, cucumbers, red peppers, green peppers, chili peppers, tomatoes, okra, squash…” 

The names fell easily off Hunk’s tongue as he ran his fingers through the air above rich green leaves, thumb moving down the list. How he recognized them by the look of the immature leaves, tiny and fragile, Keith wasn’t sure. Keith had been studying them for the last two years under Hunk’s guidance, but he could hardly tell tomato sprouts from cucumber sprouts. Still, Hunk had that confident grin on his lips and a set to his shoulders and Keith could only smile too as he leaned on the buggy and watched. Hunk’s eyes flicked across the sheet of notebook paper, tattered on the top edge from where he’d ripped it from the notepad and scrawled on with a blotchy black pen. 

Hunk murmured a few more names and turned, let his hand drift to the plants tucked into the top of the buggy where a child would normally sit, instead filled with even smaller plants in plastic containers, brilliant green shooting out of deep, dark brown. “Mint, sage, thyme, parsley, basil, oregano, coriander, chives- Keith, did you get the ones you wanted?” 

Keith pointed to the plant at the end, carefully tucked away from the herbs. It was a small, round cactus covered in yellow-white thread-like spikes. 

“Just one this time?” 

Keith raised an eyebrow and pointed to the rest of the cart. “You’re the one who complained about accidentally getting your arm stuck,” Keith snorted. “At least there aren’t any cholla.” 

Hunk shuddered. “Don’t remind me, your mom already refuses to let me live that down.” 

Keith smirked and patted Hunk’s shoulder. “We told you about them seven times. You  _ still  _ got too close.” 

“... Shut up and let’s get these back before it gets too hot.” 

Dirt dusted their fingertips, spilled into the back of the truck, already smeared with dried paint and dirt and scrapes. The cracked leather seats beneath them and the doors creaked when they opened and slammed them shut, Keith’s cactus in his lap. The engine spluttered, almost like it would finally quit this time, and then it caught, roared to life like the dinosaur it was. A relic from Hunk’s grandfather’s time, a hulking beast of a machine, but one they’d worked on together, grease on their fingers and sweat on their brows. 

Keith ran his fingers across the dash. “Might have to replace the engine soon.” 

Hunk groaned as he backed out of the parking space. “It feels like we  _ just _ did that.” 

“That was the lawnmower.” 

“... Oh.” 

“We can always move back to the desert-” 

_ “No,”  _ Hunk cried, “I won’t survive! All that cholla? The scorpions? The  _ heat _ ?” 

Keith raised an eyebrow. “As if it’s not hot here.” 

Hunk huffed and swatted his knee. “There’s shade here - there are  _ trees,  _ and  _ grass,  _ and actual  _ rivers _ with water and not canyons and ravines where they used to be!” 

Keith snorted and let his head fall back on the headrest, eyes on the horizon. True, it wasn’t the desert. But it was home. More than the Garrison had been, or the shack, or even the Castle. Home didn’t smell like acacia and dust, like wet peat and electricity from thunderstorms, or like metal and something sweet he’d never identified. It wasn’t endless stretches of space or desert. No, it was rolling hills and trees, a sea nearby, and a house for two, the smell of rich earth and subtle cologne. 

One with  _ way too many damn plants.  _

Keith’s fingers trailed along the bottom of the window, the leather there worn with use, from all the times he’d run his fingers along it and all the hands that had been there before. If he turned his head just right, he could see the little HG Hunk had scratched into the wood on the dash, and the Mothman sticker Pidge had given him that he’d put right beside that childish scribble. The chimes Hunk had hung on the rearview mirror clinked together quietly, filling the silence between them. No music but the rumble of the engine, those chimes, and the wind as it whipped past them. “It still feels weird to be back.” 

Hunk laughed. “We’ve been back for two years.” 

Keith hummed. Two years that had been too short. The others had gone so far, done so much - had hit the ground running. Shiro had gone straight into teaching at the Garrison. Lance had taken a position to teach snipers. Pidge worked with Matt at NASA, designing spaceships and gods knew what else. Hell, Hunk had been offered the same - but here he was, in the ass-end of nowhere with twenty-some plants in the tailgate and a bajillion more at home, even though governments and corporations had been falling on their faces and throwing their money at him for his work. But he hadn’t. Because Keith had gone off to that desert shack and stayed there, aimless. After so long in space, Earth almost felt complicated. Not that it had ever been easy. And Hunk had followed him, had- 

Fingers brushed across his knee. Keith glanced over. Hunk’s eyes were on him, just for a moment, before they focused back on the road. His fingers were warm, still. He didn’t move them - just let them sit on Keith’s knee. Keith’s hand twitched. He let it drift forward, settle on Hunk’s fingers. Pale white and deep brown that melded together when Hunk interlaced their fingers. “Get out of your head, doofus.”

Keith squeezed Hunk’s hand, hard, but Hunk only grinned as he squeezed back. Keith turned his head to fully look at Hunk. The scar on his lip had settled into a dark pink, and the ones in his hair were stark, the hair still not growing back. But he was alive. Keith could see the freckles on his nose, faint. Could see the way his thick eyebrows twitched and how his eyes glanced around, so sharp. Keith squeezed his hand. Let the ride pass in that cozy silence, the car a little too warm, just the way he liked it. 

The cats were lounging on the porch waiting on them, Yellow sprawled across Red, while Yorak - gods, Mom had convinced him to name that poor space-time wolf that - sat beside the house. He’d grown a  _ little  _ too big for the porch. Thankfully, he hadn’t gone for the apple tree again - they’d realized last summer that he was  _ very _ fond of those, and Hunk had bemoaned the loss of all their apple treats he’d planned on making. The cats twirled around their feet as they unloaded the plants, arms and baskets full. 

“No Yellow, you  _ can’t _ get a treat right now, you little shit.”

“Ssh,” Hunk hushed, “She’s a good girl, and she’ll get  _ two _ treats for waiting!” 

“This is why they’re fat.” 

Yellow purred and flopped on her back - right in front of Keith, of course, so he had to side-step around her, then Red, who had decided to drop her furry ass in his way too. Keith spared a glance at Hunk. “We’re never getting cats again.” Hunk grinned as he stepped over Yorak’s leg. 

“Is it because we piloted giant robot lions for five years? Or because the Galra are basically cats - well, mostly. Your mom kinda looks like one. Does that mean your dad was into-” 

_ “Too much,”  _ Keith groaned. If they hadn’t just bought all the plants, he  _ might _ have thrown one at Hunk. Or a cat.  _ Saved for now.  _

The garden was in the back, though really, it was more like six gardens that melted into one another, little man-made streams flowing through being some of the only dividers. Those had been Hunk’s idea, but Keith was the one who had put the fish in, the koi that flickered through the sun-dappled water and hid from the cats. 

And Yorak. 

Mostly the cats though. 

They took the vegetables beside the house, to the rectangular plot Hunk had cleared out and bordered off with planks of wood. It had been cleared the day before, the earth a deep, rich brown that smelled so differently from the red clay Keith had grown up with. But, when he plunged his hands into it and began to prepare a hole, it didn’t matter. Hunk was beside him, smiling. Their shoulders were brushing as they unpotted the plants, one at a time, and carefully lowered them into their holes, crumbling the roots, just a little, smoothing the dirt back around the base, and giving each one a good soak until the dirt was black and the leaves dripped. 

The peppers were set into rows, one each with four plants. Tomatoes - cherry and full-sized - beside those, their scent sharp. Then the potatoes and snap beans, the okra and the squash. His herb garden was on the back porch, and they handled that next, chives, parsley, coriander, and what felt like a dozen other things that Keith, in all honesty, couldn’t tell the difference between - hell, half the time he didn’t even know they’d used any of it until Hunk made comments about how they were almost out and  _ when the hell did we use that much?  _

Hunk held each plant out for Yellow and Red to sniff while Yorak watched from a distance - he was  _ definitely  _ too big for the garden, with the delicate paths and bridges that crossed the garden Hunk’s dad had helped them put in. He was close enough to have sweet pea pods tossed to him though, which he snapped up with a rumble. 

The sun was setting by the time they finished, dirt caked under their nails and staining their hands and knees. But the garden was planted, and the sweet tea Keith had made the day before was welcome, cold in his chest while Hunk was warm on his shoulder as they leaned into one another, Keith’s head in the crook of Hunk’s neck. 

“This is so…” 

“Disgustingly domestic?” Hunk supplied, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. 

Keith nudged Hunk’s knee. “Well, that, but… it’s nice.”  _ It’s nice to not be alone.  _ To not be in a shack by himself, lost all over again, surrounded by so much empty desert. To have someone to touch, to be held by, to talk to. Five years - seven, with the journey through warped space-time - had changed him. Changed them all. 

Yellow and Red prowled through the garden, going between stalking the koi to chasing butterflies and the lightning bugs that had started to appear, bobbing through the air. Yorak had laid down just beyond the garden, tail thumping the ground hard enough to make it shake, just enough to be noticed. 

And Hunk - his hand had settled back on Keith’s, cool from his glass of sweet tea, but so familiar. Keith leaned back. Those deep brown eyes were on him, soft as the smile that tugged at Hunk’s lips. A thunk as Hunk set his glass down. A touch to his cheek, where his Galra mark had appeared so long ago. Keith shivered as Hunk traced the mark with his thumb, then moved back up to cradle Keith’s cheek, hand so big, so  _ warm.  _

Almost as warm as the sugar sweet kisses Hunk pressed to his lips, smiling into each one as Hunk held him a little tighter, pressed a little closer.

**Author's Note:**

> The piece I wrote for [Rose Gold](https://the-heith-zine.tumblr.com/), a Heith Zine in 2018!
> 
> For Rose Gold, we donated the proceeds to the Honey Bee Conservatory (totaling at $415!). It was a wonderful project, and I'm so grateful I could be a part of this project!


End file.
